


Too Slow

by aban_asaara



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Battle Couple, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Qunari Hawke - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_asaara/pseuds/aban_asaara
Summary: Till now, Fenris never trusted anyone to watch his back.





	Too Slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorroenDyrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/gifts).



> Tumblr giveaway ficlet for [NorroenDyrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd), who asked for post-battle cuddles for Fenris and their wonderful Qunari Hawke, Ursa! :D

Twin arcs of burnished gold flash at the edge of his vision.

Fenris jerks his greatsword upwards. The slaver’s daggers whistle through the air to clang against the steel of his blade; he swings it free, and the woman stumbles forward, the sand crumbling under her feet. She whirls around, a dagger aimed at the vulnerable flesh of his armpit, while he sweeps his greatsword overhead.

The sinking sun of the Wounded Coast flickers once.

A point of hard steel bursts out of her chest. Both of her daggers drop to the sand at her sides; she looks down, questioning, bloody spittle dribbling out of her mouth, then slides off the blade to crumble at Fenris’s feet.

He shakes the blood off his greatsword, cocking an eyebrow at Ursa. She flashes him a triumphant grin in return—a rare, welcome sight that softens her handsome face. “Too slow,” she says, wiping the sweat dewing her brow with her sleeve. The sunset gleams orange on the surface of her dove-gray skin, giving it a warm, metallic sheen, like a stone worn smooth in the firelight.

She wipes her blade down and sheathes it, then turns the large, broad expanse of her armoured back to him. A few strides of her long legs take her back to the pale dusty ribbon of road that meanders along the Coast’s finger-like crags, but Fenris closes the distance between them in a single flash of lyrium blue, quirking a corner of his mouth when she staggers in surprise. “‘Too slow,’ you said?” he teases, pitching his voice low.

Ursa blinks, then smirks. She takes one step to the side in an attempt to move past him, but Fenris mirrors the movement, blocking her path, then again when she steps in the other direction. He holds her gaze, a challenge issued where their eyes lock together; she attempts to run past him, bursting out laughing when he clings to the leather straps of her armour to stop her.

His feet lift off the ground. Shards of sunset whirl around once, and then he finds himself sprawled into a rare patch of yellowed grass as the sun settles back into place.

A puff of dust and dandelion seeds drifts before his eyes. Ursa’s face appears above him, concern creasing her brow. “Sorry,” she pants, stretching out her hand towards him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” He wraps his hand around hers, then gives it a tug, smirking when she stumbles on top of him. Her lilac eyes widen, then flutter close when he curls his fingers into her collar to lower her mouth to his; she kisses him back with a gentleness belied by her strong frame, and the last of the battle rush still stirring his blood quiets down under her touch. Somewhere far away, the hush of the waves breaking against the crags washes over them. The wind blows the salt scent of the sea in their direction, its tang commingling with the dry, musty smell of the sunlit sand.

Fenris slides one hand on the nape of her neck. Her shorn, white hair is soft under his fingers, and Ursa heaves a small sigh against his lips, her touch hesitant as she brushes his cheek in answer. Somehow, they both still think of the thing between them as fragile, though its roots run deep into the earth now; tiny little strands that have grown over the years unnoticed, improbable yet inevitable when the both of them have been wandering for so long: he, drifting unmoored without past or memories to anchor him, and she, not of the Qun nor of the human world, belonging nowhere until at last they strayed to each other like chaff on the wind.

Slowly, Ursa lets their mouths part. “I’m sorry about stealing your kill,” she whispers in the warm space between them, chewing on her bottom lip. “But she was so close, I just … couldn’t take a chance.”

Doubts creep into the edges of his consciousness, but he does not let them in. He has trusted no one but himself with his own safety for so long, the thought of being anything other than self-reliant has always made him feel weak.

Not anymore.

Now he allows himself to see it as … liberating, instead. With Ursa standing between him and his enemies, Fenris is no longer one mistake away from death or slavery. He almost pities those foolhardy enough to attempt to get through her to get to him, but they would have to get through _him_ first, and … well, between the two of them, perhaps he _does_ pity their enemies a little bit.

A strange thing, fighting for someone of his own choosing. It does not change a thing, in the end, and yet it makes all the difference in the world.

“I know,” he replies before stealing another kiss from her mouth. Then they start on their way home, their shadows stretching long before them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [Tumblr](https://aban-asaara.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
